Page 79 of As Long As You'll Have Me
“I’m just checking to make sure you’re doing a good job,” I say as nonchalantly as I can. ‘Cute’ isn’t enough to accurately describe his appearance. Dangerously handsome would be more apt.
“Of course I’m doing a good job. I’ve gotten pretty good the last few years of doing this,” he says, holding up a beautifully packaged gift.
“That’s pretty good. I’m impressed.”
“I’m pretty good at a lot of things. You just wait and see.”
The space between my legs tingles with excitement as the lowness of his voice.
I peer at him over the brim of my glasses. “Is that a promise?”
His eyes shoot up and lock on me. Suddenly the air around us feels heavier than it did ten seconds ago. Warmer too.
“Do you want it to be?”
I lick my lips and swallow. My heart is starting to pick up its pace and I wonder if he can see how the hairs on my arm are standing on edge. It feels like we’re playing a game of chicken waiting to see who’s going to break first.
“Yeah, I think I do,” I say slowly, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I think we should wrap a few more gifts, first. Don’t you?”
He only looks away to take in the stack of gifts surrounding us. There is no way we’re getting it all done tonight, but even less so if we suddenly find ourselves without any clothes on.
He clears his throat and adjusts how he’s sitting. “Sure, yeah. Might be good to get a few more things wrapped.”
We both start to wrap another gift, then a third. The tension between us only continues to build every few minutes. Both of us know what we want but neither of us is willing to break first. After a few more gifts are wrapped and ribbons, tape, and scrap paper start to fill the space around us, I decide I don’t want to wait any longer.
“I feel like that’s enough for now, don’t you?” I say hastily, setting my scissors up on the coffee table that’s behind me.
“Thank Christ, I don’t think I was going to last another minute,” he says just as quickly.
Using a strong arm, he pushes the Christmas cheer that’s splayed out in front of us out of the way and pulls me towards him. Following his lead, I crawl over to him and meet his lips with mine. He doesn’t stop pulling me closer until I’m completely in his lap with my legs wrappedaround his middle. Our lips clash into one another’s while his hurried hands explore my back. Carefully, as if he’s waiting to see if I’ll tell him to stop, he reaches up and undoes the straps of my overalls, flipping them down my back and letting the front bib fall open. Shivers ripple down my spine when I feel him find the hem of my shirt and slip his calloused hands underneath it.
“So soft,” he mumbles, kissing the side of my neck and turning my insides into pudding.
“What was that?”
“You. You’re so soft. Every part of you. Your hair, your skin.” He pulls away and frames my face with one of his hands. “The way you look at me. There’s a softness to you that I didn’t know I needed until I had it.”
“We all need a little bit of softness in our lives,” I murmur as I gently kiss different spots on his face. His eyes close as I do. First his cheek, followed by his temple, then the corner of his mouth. “Even those of us who have been hardened by the life we’ve had to live through.”
He smiles softly before opening his eyes again. When he looks at me, it’s as if the entire world freezes for a moment and he sees me, right down to the bone. Suddenly, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone else in my life. I lean in, both hands on his cheeks, and kiss him hard.
“I want you to know how much I like you,” he says just above a whisper. His hands are wrapped around my legs and are holding me in place in his lap. “This isn’t a game to me and I’m not the kind of guy that dates around. When I’m with a woman, I’mwitha woman. I meant what I said yesterday when I said I was yours.”
My eyes nervously flit between his and his lips.
“But I need to know if you want to be mine.If you’ll be mine. Because I’m all in on this if you are.” He leans in close enough for our lips to touch but he doesn’t kiss me. It feels like someone has set every one of my nerve endings on fire when he whispers against my lips. “Say the words, doc. I want to hear you say them. Ineedto.”
I don’t even hesitate in answering. “I want to be yours.”
“Music to my ears, beautiful,” he mutters with a smile before crashing his lips into mine again. When I feel his tongue press into my lips, I happily welcome him in. His hands find my back, crawling up and under my shirt again, quickly finding the clasp of my bra.
“Are you okay if I undo this?” he asks and I can’t help but giggle at his asking for consent. It’s sweet and not something enough men do anymore, especially the older you get.
“I want nothing more.”
In one quick pinch of his fingers, I feel the tension of it release and I shimmy the straps down my arms. Leaning away, I pull my bra out from under my shirt and dangle it out to the side of us. He watches it fall to the floor next to the wrapping paper with a smirk.
“Such a tease,” he growls, both hands coming to my waist underneath my shirt. His hands slide up my back and pause as he brings them to my ribcage. I know he’s waiting for a signal that it’s okay to touch me, which I give him with a simple head nod. Following my lead, he grips one side of me with a hand and brings the other to my breast. I suck in a breath at his touch having forgotten what it feels like.
